Thursday, April 23 2020

Good morning, friends! I hope you’re having a swell Thursday. I feel
good today. The coffee is hitting me just right, and even though I’m
probably overdue for a haircut, shave, and a shower, I’m still feeling
mentally “put together” today.

Evidently, Rodney is also eager to get started. Usually he sleeps for
another half hour or so, but today as I was quietly traversing our old
wooden steps, he greeted me with his face pressed in the door. “Sleep
a little longer, OK dude?” I said, tossing him his first issue of
Highlights Magazine that just arrived in the mail yesterday. He’s
currently having a spirited conversation with his stuffed animals over
what sounds like the “hidden pictures” game. Good stuff, Rodney.

Sip. Let’s talk about yesterday - shall we? It was a great day,
and work went well enough. I had most of the day to myself to attack
my work. Currently I’m putting together a page of documentation meant
to instruct developers on how to deal with secrets in their
application. It’s funny - work writing has a way of activating all
those old, familiar feelings of procrastinating essays and research
papers in high school. If that means anything to you, with this paper
I’m probably at the stage where your lazy, rationalizing brain might
say something like It’s not due until Friday, and I already wrote out
all the note cards. The paper is basically written already.

Marissa had a doctor appointment in the afternoon, and she returned
with some good news. “So the doctor said we can induce labor.
They’re going to call me sometime next week to set it up. I can pick
a date anytime after May 4th,” she said. Sitting on the couch with my
laptop while Rodney played, my eyes lit up.

“That’s good news,” I replied. “I mean, I figured they’d be fine with
it. It makes sense to me that they’d want you to induce so they can
plan for capacity, but still good to hear them say it.”

Marissa nodded. “It’s coming up fast. That’s like…” she went
silent, turning the calendar pages in her head. “That’s basically two
weeks.”

“Two weeks?” I jeered. “Wow, why does it feel like yesterday it was a
month away? I didn’t realize that I’m that close to taking off of
work.” I felt a little shallow, realizing that I was momentarily more
excited about the hiatus from work than I was about ushering in a new
life onto planet Earth, but I was still sharing a head space with high
school Alex, and we were procrastinating a research paper.

I worked through the rest of the afternoon, then retreated into the
kitchen to start on dinner. The whole chicken which we were supposed
to cut up the day before was finally thawed, and I excitedly set out
two pairs of latex gloves for me and Rodney.

“Dude, are you ready to do something fun?” I said leaning into his
room. “That chicken is finally ready. Want to help me cut it up?”
Rodney rolled out of bed, echoing my enthusiasm, following me down the
stairs into the kitchen.

“We need glubs,” he said, reaching for the basement door.

I stopped him and turned his attention to the counter top. “Dude, I
already got them here. Check it out!”

Rodney clambered to the top of the step ladder and leaned over the
cutting board. We wrestled with his latex gloves for about five
minutes before we were ready to get started.

“OK dude, something important I gotta tell you,” I said, taking a more
measured and serious demeanor. “Chickens are vies until you cook
them. Do not touch anything else if you can help it.”

Rodney nodded dutifully. I lobbed the thawed chicken on the counter
and cut open the plastic with a knife. Chilly, pink water dripped
onto the counter.

“So check it out dude. This is a chicken, do you kind of see where
all the parts are? Look these are the wings.” I used gloved hands to
extend the wings, propping the chicken upright. I cautiously held my
arms out like I was flying.

“Wings. Got it,” said Rodney, holding his arms out next to me.

We cut out the backbone, lobbing it into a stock pot filled with
water. We proceeded to cut out the thighs, wings, and breasts. I put
Rodney to work sawing a loose skin flap with his butter knife. I
tidied up the workstation, then moved the heart, kidneys, and liver to
the center of the cutting board for one final hands-on lesson.

“Check it out dude,” I said carefully picking up the heart. “This is
the heart, this little thing beats and moves blood through the whole
chicken.” I held the dark piece of meat out to Rodney. He cradled it
in his fingers, but while handing it back to me, it rolled to the
floor where a patient, hungry Ziggy immediately gobbled it down.
Rodney and I stood there for a moment in hesitation. Ziggy licked her
teeth and stared back at us, asking for more.

“You’re a wild animal,” I scolded. “That’s gross, that was a raw
chicken heart Ziggy.”

“Gross,” repeated Rodney.

“HON,” I called out to Marissa. “ZIGGY ATE A CHICKEN HEART, DON’T
KISS HER TODAY.”

Wrapping up our prep work, Rodney climbed off the step ladder. I
mentally tagged each spot on th counter he touched with his gooey
hands on his way to the sink, where I carefully held him up by his
armpits so he could wash with soap.

After dinner, we jumped in the car to take a drive. Marissa heard
that the Dane county airport set up Christmas lights for drive-in
entertainment.

“We’re almost there, dude,” said Marissa. “Look for the bright
lights.”

“There it is!” said Rodney, pointing out his window. He caught sight
of a bright blue light illuminating an emergency phone on the MATC
campus. “Not quite,” laughed Marissa.

We arrived at the airport. The runway and airfield was lined with
propped up displays of dinosaurs, flying saucers, giant basket balls,
and zoo animals. The trees were wrapped with colorful, radiant
strings. Rodney stared out the window in wonder.

“I like thinking about the people that were setting this up last week
during the quarantine. I bet that was kind of a fun distraction,” I
laughed.

As we finished our final lap around the airport, we passed a long line
of cars waiting to get in.

“Look at how many people are here,” said Marissa. “Just to see some
Christmas lights. People must be bored.”

Thanks for stopping by this morning. I hope you have a wonderful
Thursday.